


I Want You To . . .

by Wolfscub



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: D/s, Dubious Consent, Erotica, F/M, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Hair Pulling, Oral Sex, PWP, Rimming, Sex, Spanking, dom!Tom, dominant Tom, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfscub/pseuds/Wolfscub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gratuitous finger vault material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want You To . . .

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW!!!!
> 
> Mature Audiences ONLY, please!!
> 
> I used the "Rape/Non Con" warning 'cause this is kinda rapish (rapey?) but she definitely wants it 'cause, you know, she's writing it!
> 
> But just in case . . .
> 
> To me, it's not even dub-con, but better safe than sorry.
> 
> Written in like, five seconds, so please excuse what I'm sure are the multitude of errors (prolly in regards to tense).
> 
> Dom!Tom, Sex, Oral Sex, D/s, Spanking, Forced Orgasm, Rimming, Fluff, Erotica, Smutty Smut Smut, PWP, Dub-Con, Hair Pulling

I want you to . . . 

Burst through the door like a conquering hero, slamming it shut behind you while you shed your suit coat onto the floor, as if you can't bear to wear it another second.

Immediately begin rolling the sleeves of your proper, starched white dress shirt up to reveal your well muscled, generously veined forearms as you stalk through the house, seeking one thing and one thing only.

Me.

When you find me - and you will, of course - I want you to reach out and grab my hair, using it to control me, to slam my back against your front, cruelly arching my neck, making me crane up onto my tiptoes to ease the discomfort of your grip a bit, which just allows you to tighten it that much more, so that now I can't put my heels down or I'll be pulling my own hair.

I want you to descend on the flawless skin your hold reveals to you, licking, sucking, biting less than gently, knowing you're going to leave marks and not caring in the least.

I want one of your big hands to reach up to the neckline of whatever I'm wearing and rip it away from me, loudly, as if its mere presence on my body offends you. I want you to shred - by your own hand - every stitch of clothing I'm wearing, even if you know its my favorite outfit.

_Make. Me. Naked._

Make me vulnerable to you in every most elemental way a woman can be to a man.

Run your hands over me as if you own me. 

Pull gasps and groans from my unwilling lungs.

Chuckle, low in my ear, at how I strain and struggle against your hold on me.

Make me realize that there's no hope of escaping what you intend to do to me.

Tower over me, emphasize the differences between us - height and weight and especially strength - in any way you can think of.

Pick me up off the floor, so that I don't even have even that safe point of contact any longer - it doesn't have to be far, you don't have to do it bridal style, just enough that I'm dangling by your hard arm around my waist.

Carry me to the dining room table or the back of the sofa in the living room or the kitchen counter - whichever strikes your fancy - then bend me over it, and with one hand pressing hard on the middle of my back, keep me there and swat my bottom.

Hard.

Hard enough that I really yelp with each crisp smack.

Make each cheek a bright crimson before you stop.

Especially if I'm crying.

And begging you not to.

When you're done, step between my legs and force them open as you unbuckle your belt so that I will feel your hands moving against your crotch and mine at the same time.

The sounds of the expensive leather _snicking_ softly through the loops of your even more expensive suit pants will have me bucking and writhing and trying to get away, just in case you're set on using it on me next.

You can if you like, of course. You're in charge here.

Or you could simply lay it down on the table/sofa/counter in front of me, as a reminder of what _could_ happen . . . 

What _has_ happened in the past that I certainly know I want to avoid.

Grind yourself against me - against my sore, red ass - threaten me with the bulge I know this whole scenario is causing you to sport.

Touch me - I'm yours to do with as you please. Press your hands beneath me and lever me up just enough to cruelly massage my titties, make me squeal as you pinch and twist and pull - all at the same time - my tender nipples, tugging them away from my body and clamping your fingertips more tightly down on them as you inevitably begin to lose your grip on them.

Drink in my cries, my pleas, my complete helplessness as you do so.

Let it make you even harder, if that's possible.

Repeat as many times as you like, knowing full well that, despite my protestations to the contrary, this is _exactly_ want I want.

Talk to me.

Your voice is another hand on me, in all my most intimate places at once.

Tell me what you've got in store for me.

Remind me, in no uncertain terms, just whose I am.

Make me shiver with your tone - the words matter less than how you choose to say them.

Bring me close to climax but nowhere near close enough.

Then reach down to free yourself when you can't take it any more.

What I want is nothing you need to consider. I have no choice - I will take what you decide I will take.

Don't bother checking whether I'm ready to receive you or not.

Because it really doesn't matter.

I'm yours, and you will have me.

Shove yourself up inside me in one tremendous thrust, then jerk your hips even further forward to make sure you've gotten the job done - that you're in me to the hilt, that I'm thoroughly invaded.

Then wrap one hand into the hair at the back of my head to crane it back as you begin to pump viciously into me, slapping my ass with your free hand, or reaching around to molest and torture my breasts.

Fuck me.

_Fuck. Me. Hard._

Until just before you're going to cum, then withdraw completely - laughing at how at first I was screeching for you to get out of me and a few minutes later I'm moaning and lamenting the loss of your imposing presence within me.

Kneel between my open legs and use both hands to spread my cheeks.

Allow me no privacy at all. 

This will have me screaming and doing my best so far to get away - there's going to be no doubt in my mind as to your intent - and that one of the reasons you're doing this is because you know how much I hate it.

Which is _exactly_ how much I _love_ it.

 _Force me_ to love it.

Don't be delicate.

Rim me.

Own me there as surely as you own the rest of my body.

Let me feel your tongue and know it's you who's bringing me all of this pleasure I would rather not think about the origins of.

Making me arch my back and thrust my hips out so that you can get at me from a better angle.

So that I'm even more accessible to that big, lascivious, nasty, nosy tongue of yours.

Pull my hips away suddenly from whatever I'm bent over and turn yourself around to get up into my lady parts.

Do it eagerly.

Moan while you mouth me.

Press your whole face between my trembling thighs so that I can feel the hair on your head on my belly, your forehead against my mons, as you devour me.

I'll pretend I don't want it.

That I don't want to come.

But you'll know how monstrously wet I am the moment you sink three fingers into me and we both groan with it.

And you'll force me to it anyway, fingers drilling into me, lips and tongue lodged on top of my clit, swirling and suckling and rubbing and lapping furiously as your free hand finds my still sizzling bottom and delivers the occasional blistering smack.

Before very long at all . . . 

I'll begin to beg in earnest. 

In a tone you know all too well.

"No no no no no please!"

And you'll know I'm very, very close.

But my words just make you redouble your efforts.

Seconds later, every muscle in my body tightens, jerks, spasms right on your face and I scream uncontrollably, and at a volume and pitch that's fit to break every piece of glass in the house. 

You'll keep me captive through it all, though, every bit of my orgasm inhaled and devoured and feasted on by you.

But you'll give me no time to recover.

None.

You're up on your feet, retaking your former position with a powerful thrust that jars my bones and makes my hands scrabble and scratch against the pristine surface beneath me, searching for some kind of purchase to brace myself for your alarming impact.

But you do not allow me such niceties.

I must take you.

Take all of you.

At once.

Every time.

No escape.

No mercy.

Not even any pleasure.

Until near the end, when your strokes will become - necessarily - shorter - sharper.

I can't help but punctuate each of them with a yelp as I feel my body responding to this assault, to this battering, softening to you even as you harden within me, the eternal ache is back, worse than before, demanding to be sated.

By you.

Only you.

You do not allow yourself your own release until you hear and feel me helplessly experiencing my own, clenching violently around you as you piston your hips against me and finally, completely and utterly empty yourself deep within me, splashing the snug walls around you with the naked evidence of your desire that will seep out of me, slowly, reminding me of just what was done to me, for the rest of my day,


End file.
